Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 142: Heirloom of the Dead

Past midnight, snow fell over Sexton, settling over the empty courtyards and the dark rows of windows. In her room, Ruelle sat on the floor beside a low-burning candle stand, the wooden box open in her lap as she stared down into the small mirror inside it.

There had once been a belief that the soulless and the dead cast no reflection. For a long time, people said it was true of vampires. But they carried reflections. She was not like them... was she? She had never craved blood.

Maybe she could compare the mirrors, she thought to herself.

So she emptied the contents of the box onto the floor and turned it over in her hands, tapping at the back in an attempt to loosen the mirror.

"A little early to be summoning ghosts," came Lucian’s voice. Ruelle looked up and found him standing at the door. At that same moment, the mirror slipped free and fell onto the floor. "Trying to wake the dead?" One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.

Ruelle watched him step into the room and close the door behind him. She raised the mirror so that it faced him. She asked, "What do you see?"

Lucian looked at her for a moment before his gaze shifted to the mirror.

"Nothing unusual. Just my reflection."

Ruelle’s stomach sank at his words. She replied, "Can your corruption know if something is wrong with someone?"

"If something were wrong with you, I would know," Lucian answered, making his way to her.

"But the mirror doesn’t show me. Not me, my hair or my clothes. Nothing," Ruelle shook her head in worry. She saw his hand reach towards her and she handed the mirror to him.

Lucian took the mirror from her and turned it slightly in the candlelight, his thumb running along the sharp edge of the glass as it didn’t look out of the ordinary. When he turned it over, he found two initials engraved into the back.

"M. D," he murmured.

are Mother’s initials. Mirabelle Dorian. My birth mother," Ruelle said, leaning slightly closer to look at the mirror. So the box had belonged to her mother after all. She wondered how she had come to possess

stated, "Mirrors have long been believed to be doors for the deceased. Maybe you

escaped from Ruelle’s lips. She pointed, "I don’t have any

back to her, the look

the cracked surface again, but nothing

the mirror fell from her hands, shattering

began to move. Like liquid mercury, the shards slid across the floor

A self-healing mirror...

across anything like this before. Only the dead cast no shadow and no reflection, yet Ruelle’s heart was beating steadily. She possessed no known ability,

items she had emptied from the box, he

vial to his eye level against the fire still burning quietly in

stared at the vial before asking, "For your engagement

response and knowledge, Ruelle stared at him before giving him a

did not ask how he knew it, but she found herself wondering what else

judgement when it comes to picking men for their daughters," Lucian said, picking

me for some time. And when

paused at

it was a good thing for me." But two days later, the man who had once shown interest in her broke things off in a letter. When Lucian didn’t say anything and continued to inspect the vial,

thinking that it might have been inconvenient if I had met you after you belonged to someone

respond to that. She only lowered her eyes, but her heart had begun to

must be made from something else. Perfumes don’t last this long," Lucian said as he pulled the cork from the vial. When he brought it to his nose and inhaled, his movements froze. For a moment, he said nothing, only stared

"No?" Ruelle asked.

nose.

Siren’s Tears," Lucian revealed as he put the cork back in its place. "They are rare because sirens do not cry. If one wished to collect it, it would have to be done during a blood moon night, and that only happens once every century. It has a